


Beyond All Sleight of Hand

by shihadchick



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncs and Seabs share a drive home after the 2006 season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond All Sleight of Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically a PWP that never quite fit in the framing narrative of another story. It also owes a debt of inspiration to [Extra Curriculars](http://archiveofourown.org/series/6661); thanks again for that story, guys. <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Title from the Frames' Headlong.

Missing the post-season stinks, no two ways about it, but the sheer fact they've made the show helps soften the blow a little. So things aren't great yet, Duncs thinks, but they're going places, they can feel it, it's close enough to taste. And things with him and Seabs at least are going good; that's been the best part of this first year, the way they click on the ice and off.

They're not exactly earning big bucks right now, and neither of them wanted to pay for an empty apartment over the summer; just a storage unit they jammed full before packing their gear and suitcases into the back of Duncs' SUV, which has just enough space to get them and the essentials from Chicago back to Kelowna. 

The best part of doing this together this time is that they can trade off driving. It's faster and it sucks less with someone to talk to; the endless fields and highways get mindlessly boring fast. Seabs' hand sneaking across the gear shift to knead the muscles in his thigh is a good distraction, though. 

It's a little too good of a distraction when his hand keeps moving inwards, because sure, as much as Duncs is on board with Seabs jerking him off, he's also really not keen on, say, wrapping the car around a tree or something if he's not paying attention.

So he wraps his fingers around Seabs' wrist and says, "Be patient," lifting his hand back over onto Seabs' side of the car.

"What if I just--" Seabs says, and Duncs doesn't even need to look at him to know he's making that dumb face with the eyebrow waggling he thinks is sexy; it's all in his voice, and Duncs has just enough peripheral vision to see that Seabs is playing with the button on his jeans suggestively.

"You're not jerking it in the car while I drive, jeez," Duncs says, although he has to swallow hard before he can actually say it.

"Hey, _you_ wouldn't be distracted," Seabs says brightly.

"I'd be distracted," Duncs assures him dryly. "Also, the car would smell like jizz forever, and no thanks."

Seabs sighs.

"Are you pouting?" Duncs asks, and sneaks a look. Seabs totally is. "We had sex five hours ago."

"Yeah," Seabs says, "and that was five hours ago, so pull over somewhere and fuck me."

Duncs is really quite glad they're on a straight stretch of road. He's fairly sure Seabs was waiting for that; he's done this drive as often as Duncs has.

"Warn a guy!" Duncs says, but he's pulling over onto the shoulder anyway. They're in the middle of fucking nowhere, surrounded by cornfields; this was basically designed for sketchy pseudo-public sex. Or, okay, a horror movie. Duncs snickers.

"No children of the corn fantasies," Seabs says, squinting at him, and proving once again just how in tune they are. God, Duncs loves him so much.

"Got all I need right here," Duncs says, and it's sappy and kind of dumb, but it's also true. Seabs breaks into that huge goofy grin that makes Duncs' heart beat faster every time at that, and yeah, this was totally a great idea.

"How do you wanna do this anyway?" Duncs asks, unbuckling his seat belt and turning to look directly at Seabs. Seabs reclines his seat as far as it'll go and lies back with his arms folded behind his head, just grinning.

"If you say 'come and get it' I'll bite you," Duncs warns. "And not somewhere that you like."

"Promises promises," Seabs says, but he unzips his pants and yanks his t-shirt over his head anyway. "I was thinking," he says, voice muffled at first and then clearing up when he gets the shirt all the way off, "that you could get over here and come on me."

Duncs swallows.

"I don't know if I'm gonna fit, Seabs," he warns, because okay, pro contracts are nice and all, and he splashed out on the car but they're still both growing and even Duncs finally hit six feet a year ago.

"Try it," Seabs says, and he's obviously checking Duncs out, running his gaze from Duncs' face down his body, and okay, yeah, these pants are hiding nothing, Duncs' dick is definitely on board with every part of this plan.

There's absolutely no dignity in the way Duncs climbs out of the driver's side and maneouvres himself awkwardly into Seabs' lap -- there's a lot of Duncs and not a whole lot of lap, for one -- but miracle of miracles he does actually fit, and then Seabs is running his hand over the front of Duncs' pants, groping him shamelessly, rubbing at his dick through two layers, because unlike some people Duncs could mention, _Brent_ , Duncs is actually wearing underwear.

"Keep that up and your plan is going to backfire pretty spectacularly," Duncs warns him, but he leans into the touch all the same, ducking his head down to nuzzle at Seabs' shoulder, nipping at the line of muscle where his collar normally sits, along the rough line of hair at his jaw where he half-assed his shaving.

"Nah, I think you can handle it," Seabs says, and the confidence in his voice is also definitely doing it for Duncs, somewhat counter-productively.

"Can we get this past second base before a cop comes by?" Duncs asks a few minutes later, just a little pathetically, panting into the side of Seabs' neck, grinding into Seabs' hand and into his body; feeling the beginnings of the ache in his knees where they're pressed into the handbrake and the door respectively, and god, god they're dumb but Duncs doesn't want to stop, not ever again. Seabs is hard under him, Duncs can feel him every time he rocks down into him, and it's making his need to come more and more urgent.

"Seabs, please," he adds, and Seabs groans, lets his head fall back against the headrest and flattens his palm, thumbing Duncs' slacks open and yanking at the zipper, freeing his other hand -- which had been previously occupied very pleasantly in groping Duncs' ass -- so that he can grab the waistband with two hands, shoving Duncs' pants and underwear down in one motion, just enough to get his dick out. His palms are mostly dry, just a little sweaty with arousal and the heat of the day, and they slide just enough on Duncs' cock, enough drag to make him hiss, bite back a moan.

"Fuck, this is hot, you're hot, so hot, god," Seabs says, tightening his grip and stroking Duncs faster, squirming underneath him so that Duncs' thigh is rubbing over his dick, too.

"God," Duncs says, because it's about all he can manage, "Seabs, fuck, I'm gonna--" because he's got close so fast, despite all the flattering noises Seabs has made about his control.

"Yeah, come on," Seabs says, not letting up as he strokes Duncs' dick, other hand planted on his ass again, fingers digging in to muscle in a way that Duncs thinks might bruise and he's more than okay with that.

Duncs goes limp right after he comes all over Seabs' chest, which is probably a little cruel -- Seabs hasn't got off yet, and also it's not like Duncs is a lightweight, but he just can't support his own weight for a few long moments. 

It takes until Seabs' protests turn from sexual frustration to ones with an edge of actual discomfort before he can straighten his legs enough to roll off Seabs -- although that does introduce the centre console to a fairly delicate part of his anatomy. He didn't actually know Seabs could giggle when he was that turned on, Seabs is _such a dick_ , but once he's balanced and able to actually move properly again he manages so slide half back into his side of the car, contorting himself so he can actually reach Seabs' belt, unbuckling and unzipping his pants and blowing him right there and then, because holy shit, that was so good, even with the embarrassing potential injuries and public indecencies. His back is going to hate him after all this -- and they've still got another six hours or so to drive before they stop for the night -- but Duncs doesn't care.

"Fuck, Duncs, fuck," Seabs says, his voice breaking a little, rough like he's the one who's sucking dick, and Duncs pulls off long enough to see Seabs drag his fingers through the mess Duncs made on his chest and stomach, watches Seabs stick his fingers straight in his mouth, grinning around them, and if there was any way in hell Duncs could get it up again right then that would have done it.

"Dirty pool," Duncs says when he gets enough moisture in his throat back to talk properly, "that was so dirty, fuck, Brent," and then he goes back down, using his hands and his mouth and just the tiniest hint of teeth, just the way Seabs likes it best, and okay, yeah.

He was right, the car does smell like jizz for like a week.

Even with the stupid evergreen car air freshener Seabs picks up at a rest stop in one of the Dakotas.

Duncs is pretty okay with that in the end, though.


End file.
